Bare

It's been a while, I don't think I remember how to do this. You take your most intimate emotions and pen them down, was it? Followed, of course, by hours of behind-the-scenes critiquing and polishing. Let's forget that last step for a bit, this is difficult enough as it is. I don't know if writing will bring me any relief or joy anymore, but I can't not try.

It's been about eighteen months, wow, since I properly wrote. Lots of catching up to do. Calling it an unbelievable year would be understating it, in every possible context.

It all started with heartache. All the good stories do, I guess. I only wish I had given enough reverence and time to the pain, could've prevented so much. Hindsight is always twenty on twenty. But I'll circle back to this later.

Moving out was interesting. It was saddening in the most liberating way possible, if one can make sense of that. I can't believe what I'm about to say out loud - but every time I've come back to my city lately, I've found myself internally griping about it. I hate myself for it. I don't miss my evening strolls, I haven't seen that family living by the road in months. But, I'm trying to focus on the part where this demonstrates the hope that I am capable of embracing change. But, besides the geographical shift, the inculcation of independence and confidence has been exhilarating beyond words. As of writing this piece, this just might be my greatest accomplishment.

My career trajectory though. I'm not sure how I feel about it. I think I've achieved a little something, and I've done some good work, and that's great. Good for me. But, every morning, as I log in, I know in my heart that the it factor is missing. I don't know how to find it, I don't even know what it is, at this point. And this directionless perplexity has hovered over every hour of every day for as long as I can remember now. I tried to force myself onto a path, thinking that self-imposed stringency might do the trick, but that led to another nugget of self-realization. I was never a perseverant woman. As much I want to see the big picture, I just can't seem to hold on for the long haul. That is the gravest development area one could possibly have, and I hope to start working toward it sometime soon. This reads like a simple enough epiphany, but I want to capture the countless nights spent in misery and dread to reach this stage of coherence.

Is it time to circle back already? I wish I knew how to articulate this without sounding like scum, but it is what it is. I broke hearts. That's what I did, this past year. I'd give anything to take over the agony I've been responsible for, but I have to learn to live with the fact that I cannot. The truth is, I gave my heart away a long time ago. My whole heart. And I never really got it back. I'm not sure if I ever will. That is my cross to bear, and I un-gladly will. But, unfortunately, I only became consciously aware of my truth recently, at a time which was already too late.

I have my phases, sometimes spanning over days, others, hours, where I am apprehensive about a particular facet of my life. Lately, it has been that silly little thing they call love. No surprises there, I'm told I use my emotions more than logic. So that is going to be the focus of our tirade today.

You know what the problem is? All our books, and movies, and art, and music - everybody talks of love. They teach you to love them wild, and to transcend above rationalities. And that really is the most beautiful experience a human being can have. But, what happens when life hits? You can't stop reading, or hit pause, or avert your attention. Nobody, in this goddamn world, teaches you how to unlove. The human brain is not so fickle as to disassociate those powerful feelings in a flash. I'm not sure if mine can be taught to, either. And that, really, is the bitch of it all.